


the stillness of forgetting

by nasa



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alzheimer's Disease, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, angst is a very strong word but it's not happy, i mean ok it's sad but not like kill me now sad, it's not sad either though, like appropriate levels of sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 07:27:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15747096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nasa/pseuds/nasa
Summary: “Who are you?” Tony asks every morning when he wakes up and finds Steve lying next to him.“I’m your husband,” Steve always replies.-aka Tony has Alzheimer's.





	the stillness of forgetting

“Who are you?” Tony asks every morning when he wakes up and finds Steve lying next to him.

“I’m your husband,” Steve always replies. He keeps his hands to himself until he’s sure Tony believes him, a habit he’s learned over time.

Tony considers him, the map of wrinkles beside his eyes deepening. “You look like Captain America,” he says.

Steve smiles. “Yeah,” he says. “You tell me that a lot.”

He had tried to explain it, at first - that he was Cap, that he’d slept in the ice for seventy years, that Tony himself was a superhero too - but it was too complicated. Often it would take hours of time, time that could be better spent doing other things, and by the next morning, Tony had always forgotten.

“Well, I was lucky to get such a handsome husband,” Tony usually says, and that’s when Steve leans in to kiss him. Every day Tony grows a little bit older, a little more tired, a little more grey, but this always stays the same: the warmth of his mouth against Steve’s, the scratch of his goatee on Steve’s jaw, the smell of him. It’s something that will never change, not as long as Tony is here.

“Come on,” Steve says, then, pulling back. “Time for breakfast.”

He doesn’t like to think about the inevitable future where that will not be the case.

 ****-

Steve is aging. He had once feared that he wouldn’t - that he would be forced to stay young and limber while his friends grew old and died, rotted to bones while he was once more frozen, just in a more subtle way. But as the years passed, his skin grew wrinkles and his cuts healed slower and he even started to get a sparkling of grey hairs along his temple. He was glad for it.

But that didn’t change the fact that Tony, as always, was ahead of him. He was ten years older than Steve even without the influence of the serum; Steve had always known he would outlive Tony if they both made it to a natural death. He told himself it’d be fine, that he’d get his thirty or forty years with him and then survive a couple decades alone, mentoring the young Avengers and hopefully doing a bit of good in the world before he could finally reunite with Tony in Heaven.

What he hadn’t like to think about were the obstacles that would come into play before that point. Before Tony died. He wasn’t sure how exactly he imagined it might happen - he never much liked to think about Tony dying, for obvious reason, but he always had some vague notion it’d be in a fire of glory, suiting up to save the world from a disastrous situation that merited his return from retirement, or maybe even a death that Tony deserved - a peaceful one, passing in his sleep, no pain.

But of course the world wasn’t fair like that. Instead, soon after Tony’s seventy first birthday, he started to have worrying neurological symptoms. There was the classic sign of forgetting things, but everyone, Steve included, thought it was just a sign of regular old age, the mind’s natural deterioration. It wasn’t until Tony started having issues solving problems, when it became difficult for him to remember how to do simple tasks he’d always managed - like armor upkeep for Riri, or suit upgrades for any of the other Avengers - that Steve started to get really concerned.

 _Alzheimer’s,_ Tony’s doctor had said when they finally visited, her face pinched and creased like crumpled paper.  _As I’m sure you know, there is unfortunately no cure, but of course there are treatments we can try -_

For months after the diagnosis, Tony had thrown himself into research towards a solution.  _Millions of people, Steve,_ he’d said, after the third night in a row Steve had found him up late in the workshop, surrounded by glowing holoscreens, hands shaking with manic energy.  _Millions of people and no cure I should have been working on this sooner, I should have -_

 _Bed,_ Steve had insisted.  _Regular sleep patterns are good for your brain. Please, Tony._

And Tony had given in, because Steve said please. Sooner or later, he always gave in to Steve.

The research continued for months with no progress, until a few weeks after Tony’s seventy-second birthday it abruptly halted. For weeks he didn’t visit the workshop, didn’t mention anything to Steve at all, and so finally one morning over breakfast Steve asked him how it was going.

 _Oh, good!_ Tony had chirped.  _I think I’ve got this almost figured out -_ and Steve’s heart had leapt -  _you know, nanobots are hard to wrangle but I’m close._

 _Nanobots?_ Steve had asked cautiously. Was that the answer? Tony had never mentioned anything before.

Tony squinted at him over his cornflakes.  _Yeah, nanobots. The project I’ve been working on for my new armor? Are you okay, Steve?_

 _I’m fine,_ Steve had managed over the lump in his throat.  _Just tired. You know how it is._

 _Yeah,_ Tony agreed, reaching over to settle his hand on top of Steve’s. His skin was warm and callused. Alive _,_ Steve thought.  _No worries, babe._

After that, there was no more talk of Alzheimer’s or cures, just Tony’s slow backslide into the past.

-

“What do you want for breakfast?” Steve asks, as he and Tony head into the kitchen. “We’re almost out of eggs, but I could do pancakes or cereal.”

“Waffles,” Tony decides. Steve could almost swear it’s just to be contrary. That’s the thing - even though in many ways Steve feels like he has lost his husband, there’s always something left to remind him that he’s here. A sarcastic joke, an old nickname, his willful fighting spirit. Even without his memory, Tony is still Steve’s.

“Okay,” Steve agrees. “Take a seat, I’ll make you your coffee, okay?”

He moves to get the coffee maker going. It’s just started whirring when he feels a light touch on his shoulder blade, and he turns to find Tony standing behind him, a strange look in his eye.

“What?” Steve asks, when Tony doesn’t say anything. “Something wrong?”

Tony shakes his head. “No, just,” he takes a breath, “Just wanted you to know how much I love you.”

Steve’s breath catches in his chest. “Tony -“ he murmurs, but he doesn’t know what else to say.

Tony’s hand slides up from his back to his shoulder to cup his jaw. “Because I do,” he continues as if Steve hadn’t spoken. “I love you so much. No matter what, okay? I want you to remember that.”

Steve swallows hard. “I know,” he manages finally. “You too, sweetheart.”

“Good,” Tony says, leaning in to press the most chaste of kisses to Steve’s lips. When he pulls back, his eyes are gleaming. “Now go make me some waffles, sunshine, I’m starving.”

If Steve’s answering laugh is a bit watery as Tony heads back to the table, it’s fine. It’s not like Tony will remember.

**Author's Note:**

> check me out/send me prompts at nasafic.tumblr.com


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